Jealous Guy ver2
by Russianality
Summary: France finds out that England went behind his back. This version is identical to the original, save for the fact that there's a smut portion. If you liked the first one, please read this one as well!


"You told me you'd be with me forever." France's voice was essentially a growl as he leaned over England, the former's eyes narrow with fury. "You liar."

This all began a few hours ago, when France happened to walk in on England making a telephone call. Normally, he'd have assumed he was talking to America or one of his other former-colonies; but he'd gotten suspicious this time when the Brit tensed upon his presence and whispered something, then immediately hung up the phone.

Naturally, something was up.

He let it go, though, forcing himself to stay positive. Perhaps he was planning some sort of surprise?

They'd gone through dinner normally, normal talking with normal arguements, and it was when England asked France to leave the room while he was doing dishes when the older nation decided to do something about it. He'd grasped Arthur by the forearm and dragged him upstairs, throwing him on their bed and pinning him there.

"You liar," the Frenchman hissed, gaze colder than it had ever been. "How long has this been going on? Weeks? Months? Years?"

England did his utmost to yank his wrists free from the single hand that held them above his head. "How long has WHAT being going on?" the anglophone snarled right back. "Nothing's going on!"

Of course he was on the defensive. Denying it only confirmed France's suspicions.

"Your... relationship." France gripped England's chin in his free hand and forced his gaze upward, holding him there. "With her."

"What? With whom?" England paled and turned pink at the same time- strike two.

"You know who I'm talking about." France kept his voice calm and quiet, but threatening- he knew how it intimidated England. It had worked before.

"What the HELL are you talking about, idiot?"

"Don't lie to me," France hissed, their faces centimeters apart. "You were speaking with her on the phone earlier today." He let go of England's face and reached across to the bedtable- he clutched the phone in his hand. "Shall I select redial?"

"No-!" Strike three.

There was no amusement in the laugh that followed- only anger and coldness. France tossed the phone onto the floor and smashed his lips to England's, all fury this time. He bit and bit and bit, finally satisfied when he heard a squeak of pain from the younger's throat. He pulled away to eye bleeding lips and confused, hurt green eyes.

France looked down at him coldly. "Don't move." His voice held an unspoken threat- one that he was perfectly willing to carry out right now. He released England's wrists and got off of him, eyeing him as a warning. Sure enough, the Briton didn't move- probably too afraid to.

France got back on the bed, a pair of handcuffs looped around a finger. England eyed these warily but otherwise did not respond- it wouldn't be the first time he'd worn them in bed with the Frenchman.

Quirking an eyebrow at this nonchalantness, France snapped one end of the cuffs around England's left wrist, looped it to a bar installed to the headboard for such a purpose, and snapped the final one around his right.

What England didn't notice, and subsequently didn't except, was the loud snapping noise that came from the whip clutched in France's right hand.

Yes, a whip.

England suddenly regretted leaving the key to the toybox in France's possession.

Green eyes widened and focused on the whip, watching it oh-so-intently.

France would have to thank America for lending this to him later.

He snapped it again, watching with grim satisfaction how England recoiled, his body attempting to shy away from the leather snake, denied this comfort by France's body.

No. England would suffer a punishment for betraying him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bandana. England barely had time to wonder how he'd gotten all of this stuff from the box without noticing before everything went black and his face suddenly felt warmer.

Of course- France had blindfolded him.

"He-"

"Hush." France snapped the whip again. "Or I'll shut that traitorious mouth of yours too. In fact..." Weight shifted and three long fingers found their way into the Briton's mouth, playing with his tongue.

"Listen very carefully, Angleterre." The Frenchman's voice was dangerous, very dangerous. Lethal. Like poison. "This mouth..." He ignored any complaints, leaning low to murmur into England's ear. "...is mine. It may not touch anyone else, it may not speak of anyone else, it may not speak _to_ anyone else the words "I love you". Do you understand?"

A nod was all the tense Brit could manage. His mouth was currrently occupied and he couldn't do anything with his hands.

"Secondly..." France withdrew his hand and traced a finger over the younger's blindfolded eyes. "These eyes are mine. They may not look at anyone else but me. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

France lingered for a moment, letting his breath fall on England's neck as he chose his next target. He picked his head up and trailed a hand down the anglophone's chest- when did his shirt become undone?-, stopping when long fingers covered his heart.

"This heart," France murmured, moving to England's ear once more, "is again mine. It shall not long for anyone else, it shall not belong to anyone else but me. Do I make myself clear?"

Another nod. It was all England could do to swallow the lump in his throat that threatened to come out in tears.

"Finally..." France trailed his hands down the rest of the Englishman's body, touching all of his sensitive places and pinching and squeezing and scraping with his nails. "This body is mine. It shall not be seen by anyone else, it shall not be touched by anyone else. Is that clear?"

Nod, and an attempt at speaking that was quickly silenced.

France bit down on England's lower lip, slipping his tongue inside the mouth before him without patience. He wasn't playing any games tonight- this was real. He came very close to suffocating the Briton before he pulled away, licking his lips as he watched England pant. Oh, he'd be doing much worse before the night was through. France could promise him that.

He cracked the whip again- Poor England had forgotten it was there and jumped at the sound.

"Pay very close attention, Angleterre." France bit down and sucked on his neck, making marks as he moved around the skin that belonged to him. It was good that there was no knife present- France was tempted to carve his name into England's body.

When he was finished, the Frenchman sat back and scrutinized the red dots on England's neck. _France._ They spelled out _France._

Now, whenever England looked at himself for the rest of the week, he'd remember who he belonged to. And everyone else would know too.

France attacked England's chest next, biting and sucking and scratching his name into every bit of skin he could reach. _France_ on his neck. _France_ on his stomach. _France_ on his heart.

He slipped off the Briton's pants with ease, despite hands shaking with anger. He was livid. _Livid._

France was never livid. He let others do the fighting, preferring to love instead. Why be angry when you can just love? All you need is love.

He was only livid when England refused to admit that he was owned. Owned by France, and never to be released until the day they both died. For even in death, France would find a way to keep England for his own.

France planted kisses and nips on this half of England, his hips and thighs and legs. It was all his.

He ignored the British nation's squirming and moved back up, taking one of his hands and bringing it to his lips.

"I love you." A kiss. "Je t'aime." Another. "I love you." Kiss. "Je t'aime." A fourth.

He spread the Englishman's legs with no resistence and attacked the new area, kissing everywhere his attention was wanted. He licked and sucked and bit, feeling his own pants tighten as England's voice reached his ears.

_"Ah!_ ...F-Frahhhh..."

"Nnn...! Ah...!"

"F-Fraaahhhh ...nce I- ah.!"

"Ah...!"

Panting and gasping breaths.

So England thought he was free to do whatever he wanted, eh? France's lips curved into a grim smile. He'd make sure the Briton knew his boundaries. How far his chain stretched.

France pulled his lips away from the other's arousal and lay down atop him, arms tightening around his torso as lips found a nipple. He rolled it between his teeth, for once leaving the other unattended. He didn't care.

France grasped onto England's sides and turned him onto his stomach. The chain on the cuffs was long, so a twist wasn't too horrible. But the Frenchman didn't care.

He traced a finger down England's spine, lips stationed at the small of his back. Hands grasped the fronts of his thighs and squeezed, sliding up and down the pale skin.

England looked good from behind. You couldn't see his face- the face that had betrayed him.

France leaned over him and trailed a hand down England's stomach. He wondered if this body had betrayed him too. If that was the case...

The Frenchman bit down on England's left shoulder, hard. If that was the case he'd have to punish England severely. Then he'd think twice.

England was flipped over again and France dove on him, pressing their lips together furiously.

This mouth was his. All his. It tasted like tea and something sweet, but that taste was soured and turned bittersweet by his betrayal.

France bit down on England's lower lip, the Briton's mouth opening instantly for him. A tongue slipped inside and fingers ran through messier-than-usual blond hair.

France kissed until he felt England's chest tighten- he was running out of air. The former pulled his mouth away and watched England gasp, watched tense muscles slowly relax and then tense again when a finger tapped his arousal.

He whimpered.

Obviously England wanted him, wanted to be filled and pounded into.

But he wouldn't get what he wanted now.

There was no pleasure in teasing him this time, there was nothing enjoyable about this on either side. This was to make him suffer, to make him feel a fraction of the hurt that France felt upon figuring out England's secret this evening.

France knew England was suffering. He could tell by his facial muscles, by his limbs, by his pulse. Two fingers were placed on the point in England's neck- yes, he was suffering, alright.

While it sickened a part of him to see England like this, the majority and angry part of the Frenchman felt... glad. He felt he was getting revenge.

He wanted to use England.

Narrowing his eyes, France hovered over the anglophone and cooed to him.

_"Je suis en colère contre vous, mon petite Angleterre..."_ France's voice was low and heavy, and dangerous. _"Je pense que vous comprenez. Je pense que vous savez à quel point vous allez payer for ce que vous avez fait por moi."_

No response. Good.

France hadn't wanted a response.

He could feel England trembling. Perhaps from the intensity, perhaps from the heaviness of the atmosphere. Perhaps from fear.

France trailed bites down England's chest again, not stopping until he reached a twitching arousal. He took this into his mouth easily, sucking and nibbling as his hands touched everywhere else they could reach.

He felt England's body tense and instantly pulled his mouth away- no, England would not be allowed to do that just yet. Not until France was satisfied.

"France..." Named looked up, a brow cocked in curiosity.

_"Oui, mon petit traître?_"

England flinched. France saw it. Did his words sting? Yes? _Bon._

"I-"

"I don't want to hear it." France slipped two fingers into England's mouth, silencing him. "I don't want to hear anything from you right now." His stomach was tense and his blood was up- the Frenchman felt ready to wreak havoc on the world. "I want you to be quiet. Be quiet before I force you. I don't think you want that, now, do you, _mon petit animal?"_

England fell silent without protest. He knew what was good for him.

France watched him for a moment, watched how he reacted to the silence. He looked anxious- his eyebrows were together in nervousness and his legs kept twitching- obviously because of his painful arousal and his inability to do anything about it. His lips were still bleeding, and every so often a tongue would pop out to clean the red off of them.

After about a minute of silence France wrapped a hand around England's throat, watching with twisted enjoyment how he seemed to panic. His pulse grew faster and his muscles tensed, ready to spring into action.

Unfortunately, they couldn't. Too bad.

France settled back between England's legs and grasped one of them, bending and moving it. He watched how the Englishman reacted almost curiously- he seemed afraid.

France grasped his other leg and spread them farther apart, farther until his knees hung off the bed. That was better. He needed room to work.

He dragged his nails down England's chest once more before slipping a finger inside him, feeling the Briton tense and shift uncomfortably.

Normally, he'd have gotten a complaint for that, a protest or a whine, but this time... this time England knew to keep silent.

"I want you to listen to me, England." France added his second finger and moved them in and out, stretching and thrusting simultaneously. "Okay?"

A tense nod.

"This is something only I'm allowed to see." France pressed a kiss to the Englishman's stomach, listening carefully to the noises he recieved. "I want you to tell me that I'm the only one who's allowed to see you like this." He wrapped his free hand around England's base, preventing him from getting the release he'd been about to.

_"Non, Angleterre, mon cher traître_. Not until you tell me that this is mine. I'm the only one who can see you like this; face flushed, legs spread, body so desperately yearning for attention. This is mine. Tell me you understand."

"I-I..." England swallowed. "I unders-stand..."

_"Bon."_ France grasped one of England's legs with his free hand and brought it back onto the bed, pushing it forward into the Briton's chest. He pushed until it wouldn't go any further.

"Tell me that your body is mine." France pushed his leg forward suddenly, earning a gasp of pain. He let go, resting that knee on the bed again. "Tell me, _Angleterre."_

"M-my..." A hesitation.

"Are you not sure, _mon petit animal?_ Are you not aware of who you belong to?" France's voice was smooth. "Shall I remind you?"

No response.

"Me." The older leaned forward and bit down on England's shoulder, moving up to his ear. _"Moi, Angleterre._ You belong to me. Do you understand?"

"Y-you..."

"Me what, England?" The Frenchman's voice hardened.

"You... I..." England swallowed. "I... belong to... you..."

_"Vous appartenez à moi, et moi seul. Suis-je clair?"_

A nod. My, my, England was quiet today.

_"Bon garçon."_ France rewarded his pet by finally letting go, allowing him to have the release he so desperately wanted.

When that was finished the Frenchman yanked the Briton's legs up, spreading them far and pushing his fingers again. Three this time, curling and stretching and preparing. All the while making him squirm and gasp and quiver.

France withdrew his fingers and undid his pants button, throwing England's knees over his shoulders and pushing himself inside without another word. He leaned over the Briton before him and bit down on his skin, purposely drawing blood on his shoulders and neck. Places he knew would hurt.

England didn't last as long as France would have liked him too- he climaxed shortly after the Frenchman started moving inside him and went limp, probably exhausted. But France payed that no mind.

_"Snap out of it, Angleterre..."_ France tapped his cheek and the Briton returned, head thrown back and fingers tight around the sheets.

France grasped the backs of England's legs and hoisted them into the air, hips lifted up off the mattress and legs spread painfully apart by strong hands.

He didn't care that England was exhausted, he didn't care that England had enough and wanted to recover, he didn't care that right now he was in pain. Right now, France wanted England to pay.

Hands tightened as France finished, shooting into the British man and pulling out as soon as he was spent. He let England's legs back down and looked at the exhausted thing below him, scrutinizing him.

France leaned over him again and brought a chained palm to his own bare chest, placing it above his heart. The heart that beat not for France, but for England.

"Do you feel this?" France's voice was quiet this time, gentler. "It's yours. It belongs to you, just as yours belongs to me." He couldn't hold back a sigh. "Angleterre... England..."

He sat back, closing his eyes for a moment. France looked up to the British man's face- the eyes he couldn't see, the brows furrowed in confusion, worry, and regret. The lips darkened with clotted blood and shiny with saliva, the cheeks wet with tears.

He brought it on himself.

But had didn't mean France couldn't make it better.

He bent forward, touching a red cheek gently. England shied away from his touch, pulling his head away with a noise of protest. France gave a sad smile as he reached over and undid the knot, pulling the cloth away from his face and dropping it to the floor.

"Oh, my love..." France's face was gentle as he stroked England's cheek, looking down at him with equally sad, blue eyes. "What did I do to you...?" He placed a gentle kiss to the Briton's forehead. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, mon cher amour... I... lost control..."

England didn't respond, only shifting uncomfortably and flexing his fingers.

"You hurt me, so I hurt you back... I didn't... intend to..." France traced a finger over swollen lips. His lips. They were his, and he'd hurt them.

"Say something to me, England..." France took a key from his pocket and let England's wrists free. He grasped one gently and kissed it all over, then gave the other the same treatment. "Oh, England, please..." He lay down on his side next to the other and ran a hand through messy blond hair. "Tell me you forgive me... Forgive me for making you cry..."

He shut his eyes, unwilling to look at the Englishman he loved so much. The Englishman he'd hurt so much.

"Forgive me for-"

"I-It's alright."

France opened his eyes carefully. He was actually afraid- tension gnawed at his stomach as he waited for an answer.

"I... forgive you." England sat up, wincing, nursing wrists that were bound to be bruised in a few hours and looking over his shoulder at the man beside him.

France sat up with him and focused blue eyes on green ones. Could he really...?

"I..." England lay back down, feeling pain in areas that hadn't hurt this morning. "I... wh-what I didn't do was right either. I... ah... I oughtn't have gone behind your back l-like that."

France refastened his pants and got off the bed without another word, offering a hand to England.

His England.

"Let me help you," he murmured, fingers twitching. "Get you comfortable."

"I-I can do it myself."

_"Non."_ France bent closer to him. "I'm going to make sure you're clean and comfortable before we sleep. I... want to do it. To apologize." He looked at the silver ring on his left hand.

He felt a hand grasp his.

"Alright, fine," Arthur grumbled, allowing himself to be yanked off the bed and lifted into strong arms. "If it'll make you happy. And by the way..."

France stopped in his tracks. "Yes?"

"I love you." Hands grasped a French face and pulled it down to an English one. "Only you," he whispered against the other's lips. "I always will."

* * *

>What did you guys think? I italicized all the French, so hopefully that will make things easier.<br>Translations:

_Je suis en colère contre vous, mon petite Angleterre... Je pense que vous comprenez. Je pense que vous savez à quel point vous allez payer for ce que vous avez fait por moi._ - I'm angry with you, my little England ... I think you understand that. I think you know how badly you're going to pay for what you did to me.

_Vous appartenez à moi, et moi seul. Suis-je clair?_ - You belong to me, and me alone. Am I clear?

_Mon petit animal_ - My little pet

_Mon cher traître_ - My dearest traitor

_Bon garçon_ - Good boy  
>Everything else is run-of-the-mill France, like "cher" or other pet names that are commonly used. c:<br>Thanks for reading! 


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